


A Lesson in Deference

by Elowen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Pegging, Strap-Ons, strap-on oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3401264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elowen/pseuds/Elowen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor wants to try something new with Cullen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in Deference

Ellana's skin prickled under the cool fabric of her robe. She was acutely aware of the firm leather straps cinched around her thighs and hips, still cool but quickly warming with her body heat. The sensation was a little strange and foreign. She laced her arms over her stomach, drawing the robe tighter against her body. She'd first seen the device at a little shop in Val Royeaux—the sort of shop she never would have ventured into had Dorian not all but dragged her in—and she'd been first confused, then transfixed, as the shop keeper had explained how it was worn and how one might use such a finely carved phallus and harness. He had been so matter-of-fact about it, but the description had raised a blush to Ellana's cheeks as she held it, half due to embarrassment over her own naiveté, half due to thinking about its purpose. ( _People—men enjoy that?_ She had asked. Dorian had smirked and sidled up to her. _Oh, yes, my dear. Not all, certainly, but as someone with a bit of experience in such things, I can assure you that your Commander is likely one who would. All that tension—_ ) She had quickly cut him off, replacing the device on the shelf and telling Dorian she would wait for him outside the shop. 

But the thought of it, that simple, practical description of its use, had hung in her thoughts for the rest of the day and followed her to her room in a plush Orlesian inn. She had brought herself to climax that night thinking about it. Then again the next, her mind spinning an even more intricate fantasy as she rubbed herself and moaned into a silk pillow, imaging it strapped her hips, Cullen writhing beneath her as she penetrated him. By the forth day, she'd concocted a plan to extract more information from Dorian. She'd waited until he was several drinks into the evening (for her benefit, not his; the drunker he was, the less likely he would be to remember the conversation with sharp clarity and tease her about it later). And Dorian, dear friend that he was, was all too eager to oblige her curiosity. He didn't even argue her declaration that her interest was purely academic. The night before they left Val Royeaux, she found herself slipping away from a meal to discretely buy it.

She'd been back at Skyhold only a few hours, and felt mildly ashamed about the fact that she hadn't been able to wait longer to retreat to the privacy of her quarters. She'd even waved away Josephine with a promise to report to her early the next morning. This was the first time she had tried it on, pulling the straps tight and testing the firmness with her own grip. It smelled of new leather and lacquer. She had regarded herself in the mirror and felt at once both oddly powerful and shy. Rendering real the first part of the fantasy gave her a rush of confidence, but not quite enough to overcome the jittery fear of being alone in wanting this. The robe helped; she had put it on and left her dressing area to stand where she was now, in the middle of her bedchamber. 

She knew what she was about to ask was beyond anything she and Cullen had done before, but her conversation with Dorian, full of veiled references and vague allusions on her end, had begun to solidify something in her mind. Some inclination she'd never quite been able to articulate before, but that had underlined all of her encounters with Cullen up to this point. It simmered just below the surface. Cullen had never been shy when they made love, certainly, but there was something in the way he implicitly yielded to her, never went any further than she wordlessly asked him to, never led without being told to. Something in the way he gasped when she leveraged her strength to pin his arms to the mattress as she rode him hard and wantonly. And, she had realized, there was something in the way she liked to do it. How she had yearned, however abstractly, to push him further, see more of that side of him.

And so she found herself standing in her quarters, preparing to broach the desire all at once. She still felt a little clumsy, certain of what she wanted but uncertain of how to ask without just doing it. Perhaps that also said a little something about her, she thought wryly. She fought the urge to retreat to her dressing area and drop the whole endeavor before it started. Instead, she paced away her nerves by tracing the outline of the long rug that ran from one end of the room to the other. On her second pass, she heard a knock followed by the door opening a slim, respectful crack.

"Ellana?" A familiar voice called.

She exhaled slowly before she answered, steadying her voice. "Come in." She turned to face the stairs, listening to each heavy foot fall until Cullen's head appeared.

He smiled up at her in that now-familiar way that somehow still made her heart skip a beat. "I got your message and came as soon as I could. Everything went well in Val Royeaux, I hope?"

"Oh, yes, somehow we managed to go two full weeks without creating a political disaster, though it was dicey there for awhile there with Dorian in the party. He can get a bit less than diplomatic when he's deep into his cups."

"I can well imagine." He stood before her now, reaching out one hand to tenderly stroke her cheek. "I missed you terribly," he said, his voice dropping as if it were a secret just for her.

"I missed you, too." She tipped her head to press against his warm palm. 

Cullen took it as an invitation and leaned in to kiss her. It was soft, almost chaste, but she could feel the restrained need thrumming just below his controlled surface. Instead of deepening the kiss, she pulled back.

"Is it too much to hope you called me to your bedchamber for personal reasons?" He asked.

Ellana felt a new rush of anxious energy, but some of it shot down and settled hot between her legs. She did her best to hide it, lifting her chin with authority and pressing her hands into heavy mantle on his shoulders. "I had intended to go over some horrifically tedious field notes with you, but if you'd prefer something more personal, I do have an idea."

Cullen raised one eyebrow in an unspoken request for her to elaborate.

“Would you do as I ask?” She said, but it didn't seem quite right. “Would you... do as I commanded?” She amended, speaking slowly and hoping the words and her steady gaze carried the weight of her intended meaning.

Cullen didn't respond immediately. He regarded her for a moment, searching her face. Then something in him seemed to shift, a dawning understanding, and he answered, “Yes, Inquisitor. I am always yours to command.”

She swallowed hard. “If you wish me to stop, just say the word.”

“There is nothing you could command me to do that I would not do eagerly,” he said, his tone even and convincing, his eyes never leaving hers.

His words sunk to the pit of her stomach and curled there, warm and encouraging and arousing. “Good.” She stepped back to lean against the high mattress of her bed, emboldened. “I like a man who knows his place.”

The corner of his lips threatened a smile, but he quickly subdued it. He covered it with a brief deferential nod.

“Strip for me.”

Cullen obeyed as if without a second thought. He removed his gloves and bracers first, placing them carefully on the floor. His mantle and the rest of his armor followed, laid out as neatly as he could manage without an armor stand. He always took his time, did things properly. He stole a glance at her but didn't seem to dare to look too long. Quickly Cullen tugged the shirt over his head and pulled at the laces of his trousers, pushing them down his legs until he stood before her in nothing but his smallclothes.

When he made no move to take off the last bit of clothing, Ellana eyed him. “What did I say?”

Wordlessly, he pushed the last of his clothing down over his hips and stood before her naked. One of his hands twitched and moved toward his groin. It was an impulse to cover himself while under such unfamiliar, quiet scrutiny, she thought, and she was gratified when his hand stilled and his fingers curled into a loose fist at his side. He didn't need to be told; he understood on instinct. He was to do as she bid, and nothing more. Here he was not Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces and valued advisor. Here he was her soldier, and he yearned to be a good one—obedient, stalwart, disciplined.

She let him stand that way, exposed and bathed in soft candle light, for a long, silent moment. Her eyes skated over the powerful curves of his body, the smooth, taut muscles she loved to touch but rarely simply admired. Especially objectively, from this distance, pleasantly divested of all clothing and armor. She noted with no small amount of satisfaction that his cock was responding to the attention, betraying the beginnings of arousal that his face still concealed.

Confident that she had been right at least about this—his willingness, his desire to yield to her—she stepped forward to kiss him. He kissed her back with urgent need, but his hands stayed resolutely at his sides. She had not given him permission to touch her anywhere but her lips.

She broke the kiss and ran her fingers through his hair. “You are a quick learner, Commander. And so well behaved.”

Cullen made a warm, pleased sound in response to the praise. His cheeks flushed a pale red.

“And you look so enticing when you blush like that,”she added fondly. “When I first met you, at Haven, you blushed and stammered when I said anything the least bit suggestive. It made me want to claim you right then and there, your protests be damned.”

He said nothing, but the red hue on Cullen's face deepened, blooming outward to tint his forehead and neck. She really would never tire of how it looked on him, or knowing she was the cause of it.

Ellana stepped back to the bed and readied herself for the next step. The thought of it still thrilled her, tense and electric just below her skin, but this transformation from fantasy to reality still demanded confidence she did not completely possess. Her time in the Inquisition had helped her become practiced in maintaining an authoritative facade, however, and she felt herself smiling serenely at Cullen despite the way her stomach twisted.

“Kneel,” she said. “There, on the carpet.”

Cullen dropped to his knees. 

She drew in a deep breath and unlaced the sash of her robe. It fell open, exposing a long expanse of skin down her torso and the carved phallus jutting up from a harness around her hips. It was smaller than Cullen's own cock, shorter and thinner, well proportioned for Ellana's lithe, small body. 

He took in the view as she shrugged the robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, but from her vantage point she couldn't see his eyes well enough to read his expression. The room was so quiet she could hear the steady rhythm of his breath, hear the roar of her own pulse in her ears.

“You have no thoughts on how I look?”

His gaze flickered to her face then dropped to the carpet. In that brief moment she saw not aversion, or apprehension, but a flash of hunger, pupils so wide and black they nearly swallowed his golden irises. The knot of tension in her stomach unraveled all at once.

“My apologies, Inquisitor. I did not know if I should speak without being bidden to.”

His complete deference stoked another ember of heat in her core. “You may speak freely.”

“You're beautiful,” he said. “Maker's breath, I've... I've never seen anything more beautiful.” He licked his lips and raised his eyes to meet hers.

What he lacked in eloquence he more than compensated for in fierce honesty. She felt his desire lick at her insides like a fire roaring to life. She stepped forward again, this time so close that when she shifted her weight and pushed her hips forward, the tip of her phallus grazed his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut and he turned his face just enough for his lips to find the cool, hard end and draw it into his mouth. He sucked it lightly, tentatively, then slowly, deliberately swallowed down the full length of it. Ellana felt a rush of slick arousal between her legs. The sight of him—on his knees, cheeks fully flushed, lips glistening and wrapped around her cock, earnestly pleasuring an organ that couldn't feel—was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Unlike anything she'd even imagined in those long nights in Val Royeaux. (Was this like what Cullen saw when she pleasured him with her mouth? _Dear Creators._ )

His head began to bob in a slow ebb and flow, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. For long moments she simply watched as he worked his mouth along the shaft, his eyes heavy-lidded as he concentrated on the motion of his lips and tongue. She raked fingers through his hair and he moaned around the intrusion in his mouth. 

“Do you know how many people would kill to have you like this? On your knees, at their command?” She said, her voice flowing languid like honey. “I overhear talk about you around Skyhold sometimes. You're a very popular man.” 

She continued stroking his hair as if he were an obedient mabari. “But you wouldn't do this for anyone else, would you?”

Cullen looked up at her, his ale-colored eyes darker through his lashes. He sucked harder in answer to her question, humming a note of assent. As he drew back, his mouth opened slightly and he tongued the tip of her cock before sliding back down the length. The sound of his mouth was lewd and loud and fascinating.

“This is only for me,” she murmured almost absent-mindedly, and felt a rush of affection for the man who knelt before her, giving her what she wanted so readily and without question. Seemingly ready to give more. Her thoughts flashed back to the fantasy she'd conjured in the weeks before this moment, of Cullen bent over her desk or her bed or on all fours, gasping and begging.

Ellana drew one hand around the back of his neck, tugging on his hair just enough to signal him to stop. She pulled her hips back and the phallus popped from his mouth with a wet noise. She had a better view of his torso now and admired the state of his cock, swollen and hard with want, a bead of liquid already evident on the tip. She had barely touched him; this was all just from stripping and kneeling when she ordered him to, sucking her fake cock when she presented it to him. It was heady in a way that almost made her dizzy.

“What else do you think I should do with my new little toy?”

“Whatever pleases you, Inquisitor,” he managed, though his voice was ragged.

“You've been so good, Commander, I'm tempted to offer you a reward,” she replied. “What would please you?” The question hung in the still air, both an invitation and an out. He knew what she wanted, but he was the one who needed to ask for it. Needed to want it, too.

“Fuck me, Inquisitor. Please.” The way he said it sent another hot jolt of need to her center.

“As you wish,” she said, stepping back and turning toward the bed. “I want you here.” She indicated the floor in front of the mattress. 

Cullen rose slowly and moved to face her bed. She stood behind him and put a hand on his hips, firm but reassuring. Without realizing she was doing it, Ellana made a soft soothing noise. 

“Bend over for me.”

He did, resting his weight on his forearms. The position raised the nobs of his spine and she felt compelled to trace them, first with her hand and then with her mouth, starting in the center of his back and kissing a path all the way down to the cleft of his ass. She moved her mouth slightly to the side, over the muscle, and bit down lightly.

He swallowed a grunt and jerked.

She hushed him again as she would a nervous horse, and pulled back to place her hands back on his ass. She rubbed, massaging the firm muscle, hands sliding around to his front almost close enough to brush the base of his cock then retreating to his backside. He visibly relaxed and hummed, head dropping toward the blankets. She stepped away just long enough to retrieve a small jar of oil from her bedside table and slick her fingers with it, stroking her phallus until it was well coated. It was fine Orlesian oil, infused with herbs and a strangely familiar musky smell she couldn't quite identify.

Gently, she placed two fingers at the point where his ass met his back, then pulled them slowly, slowly down the center until she found the tight ring of muscle. Cullen sucked in a sharp little breath as she began to trace its outline with her fingers. His hips rocked just a little, forward and then back. She kept her fingers moving in deliberate circles until he rocked back harder. The pads of her fingers breached him, shallow, just to the first knuckle, and Cullen moaned. She worked her fingers around again, coating the inside of his hole with lubricant.

“Yes, just like that, Commander. You're doing so well.”

He moaned again and she felt the muscle twitch around her fingers. She pushed in just a little further, curling her fingers and pressing against his inner walls more firmly. Her other hand found his hip, bracing him. Then he pushed back more forcefully, fucking himself on her hand and she promptly withdrew.

He whimpered, and fuck if it wasn't the sexiest noise Ellana had never heard. She needed to breech him with something more substantial than her fingers. Make him whimper louder, beg for it. Beg for her. She tapped one ankle with her foot. “Spread your legs wider.”

The movement brought his ass down to just the right level and she settled closer, nudging him with the tip of her cock. With one hand, she guided it to his hole, applying just enough pressure to hold it in place. She held it there for a beat, and felt him shiver below her.

“Inquisitor, please,” Cullen said, but he kept his body still, didn't push back to claim it. “Please fuck me.”

Ellana obliged, leaning enough weight into her hips to sink in agonizingly slowly. It drew a long, low moan out of Cullen, momentarily satisfied but still wanting more. When she bottomed out, she felt the phallus shift just enough to press against her swollen clit and she gasped at the unexpected stimulation. Grasping his hips, she withdrew until just the wide head of the cock was still buried inside him and then slid in again. Again she felt the pressure against her clit, the underside of the device perfectly shaped to make contact without crushing her sensitive parts. _Leave it to the Orlesians,_ she thought with a small smile as she repeated the motion.

She only managed a few more dragging, slow thrusts before the stimulation made her falter in her teasing pace. The evening had been so heavy with unsated lust that when she was finally touched there it didn't take long for her to lose control. Her fingers dug into the hard flesh of his thigh as she fucked him harder, deeper, chasing the sharp strike of pleasure that hit every time she bottomed out. Cullen's hands curled in fists around the blankets. He murmured something unintelligible and then she heard her title, stuttered syllable by syllable as he panted with each thrust.

He lasted only a moment longer before he moved one hand toward his cock. She couldn't see how hard he was, but she knew he was desperate from the noises he was making between staccato breaths. It was a transgression, however, a deviation from orders, and she snapped her fingers against his wrist in warning. Cullen hissed at the strike. He begged for forgiveness and release as best he could, quickly moving his hand back to grip the blanket and shuddering out a plea. But he wasn't perfectly compliant: she felt him press his hips forward and knew he was seeking friction against the mattress.

Beads of sweat were rising on the back of his neck, clinging to fine blond hairs. His legs and arms trembled with the work of supporting his weight. His words had dissolved back into incoherence, meaningless noises that punctuated his desperation. Cullen's hips worked in time with hers, and she felt the pressure in her own core building. She pushed in one last time, hard, one hand pinning his pelvis to hers, the other snaked around his torso. She was grinding her hips in a circular motion that put an almost agonizing amount of pressure on her over-sensitive clit. She clenched her eyes shut, focused on the white-hot fringes of her building climax, the sound of Cullen's needy whimpers, the smell of sweat and sex and leather.

Ellana came hard, calling out to the Creators, to the Maker. His voice joined hers, invoking his Maker, and she finally gripped his cock, tight and purposeful, and stroked him. He fucked her hand as she pumped him, an awkward, clashing rhythm that nevertheless had him wailing, words again spilling over each other until he jerked and gasped and came. She kept working his cock as she felt each pulse of his orgasm, as he thanked her, thanked the Maker, then slowed, then stilled. 

They stayed that way for awhile, coupled and draped over the side of the bed, as Ellana panted and caught her breath. Gingerly she withdrew from him and pulled at the straps of her harness. She let it fall to the floor and admired the red marks the straps had pressed over her hips. By the time she looked up, Cullen had recovered enough to stand upright. He turned to look at her.

“I... I've made a mess. All over your bedding. I'm sorry,” he said, his eyebrows tugging together in a way that suggested genuine regret.

Her heart clenched. She drew him into her arms, pressed a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth. “That was my fault. I made you come,” she said, unable to suppress a sly smile. She slid a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. “You were perfect, Cullen. That was exactly what I wanted. Better, even.” 

He blinked back at her and sighed, his expression softening as if the sound of his own name on her lips had led him back to his usual self. “Maker, how I love you, Ellana,” he said, then smiled back at her.

“Lie with me,” she said, taking his wrist and sitting on the edge of her bed.

He curled up with her, his chest pressed against the length of her back and his breath tickling her neck. He kissed her once, just below her ear. She felt him relax against her as he draped one arm over her torso, holding her close. And then he slipped quickly into peaceful sleep, free of the torment of dreams.


End file.
